Page 107 of SINS & Riley
Or, you know, two pregnant Mullvain women.
We both take our seats, the view spilling out onto a lush vineyard in the distance. And beyond that, the sea.
It’s private, pristine… paradise.
A woman with big brown eyes and cherub cheeks pours us each a coffee. I take it gratefully, sip with a soft mmm, and study her.
Then it clicks. “I met you at the wedding. Dory, right?”
Her smile could light up the sky. “Yes. I’m here to make sure your sister and the girls eat enough,” she teases.
I glance at the mountain of food in front of me. “You’re killing it.”
She leans closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m also usually the unlucky one stuck babysitting Enzo.” She waggles her brows with mischievous delight.
I pause mid-sip. “I can’t imagine Enzo needs much looking after.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Her grin widens. “The father-to-be is a nervous wreck.”
And just like that, I’ve landed smack in the heart of bizarro town.
Enzo—the man who carved out a reputation as one of the most ruthless mob bosses in Chicago’s history—a nervous wreck?
The woman talks about him less like a mafia butcher and more like a cranky toddler.
I absolutely love her.
For a few minutes, she fusses over us, wrapping warm pashminas around our shoulders. Then she starts us off with plates of cornetti—flaky pastries filled with apricot jam—alongside ricotta drizzled with honey, fresh figs, thin slices of prosciutto, and enough bread toasted and brushed with olive oil to build a dam.
Oh, and two Bellinis. Virgin, thank God.
Once she’s satisfied we’ve been thoroughly pampered, Dory checks her watch. “The girls will be up soon. I’ll try to keep them out of your hair while you catch up.”
For a moment, I forget that Kennedy somehow landed smack in the middle of becoming both a wife and a mom overnight.
Dory hugs us each like we’re her own children before slipping away.
And Kennedy and I dive in, eating like ravenous raccoons and chatting up a storm like no time has passed at all.
But time has passed.
Too much of it.
And I hate that I’ve missed so much.
“I got your note,” she says.
“My note.” My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. “Oh my God. Ricardo Ricci actually gave it to you?”
She pulls a folded sheet from the neckline of her blouse. “I keep it with me every day. He said you looked well and happy.”
Happy. He thought I looked happy.
Hmm…
It feels like he yanked that straight out of his ass. Especially since he spent the whole time ranting about being kidnapped by Zver and demoted back to the peasant duties from whence he came.
But okay, we’ll go with that.
